March 13, 2025 – 58°27’S, 068°10’W
As soon as you point your bow into the Drake, you feel its power. A relentless rush of water surges eastward. We managed to gain some miles to the west, though we needed a little help from the iron topsail. Hard to imagine the old sailing ships battling wind and swell to round the Horn. We once tried it with Europa and nearly made it—time, in the end, was our enemy. Plane tickets were booked, and another group was already waiting on the dock.
This morning, the sky cleared, and sure enough, the wind shifted to WNW. Time to tack and head north. It has now picked up to 35 knots, with a lumpy sea running. We’re still laying our mark on the Horn, 150 miles to the north. The forecast calls for the wind to ease and back to WSW. Until then, we try to hold this course without upsetting too many stomachs…
The sun is out, as are the white-chinned petrels—cobblers, as they’re called. A Great Wanderer glides far in the distance, while Blue Petrels cross our wake. This is true wilderness. We crossed the convergence zone yesterday, and with the northerly wind, we can feel the change. The wind chill has eased, and no more ice particles chase you through the night. Just the deep blue of an honest ocean and a towering sky.
All is well.
Gijs
